Rain
by artificiallynatural
Summary: In which Jimmy actually comforted Thomas before 3x08.


**Title: Rain**

**Pairing: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent**

**Rating: T**

**Warnings: m/m content**

It was just an unfortunate occurrence. An unreciprocated, heinous feeling that went too far- it had to be stopped in its entirety before other, less desirable actions arose.

Jimmy had repeatedly said the litany of words in his mind, but after all, they were merely _words_. Letters arranged in curious patterns to formulate coherent ideas. Words wouldn't take away the guilt that pricked in his conscience- something he so rarely utilised. Yet now, when he had purposefully (unknowingly) afflicted someone's life and their job, Jimmy began to see the flaws of his actions clearly- fissures slowly tracing webbed cracks, revealing the thin glass of reality- and it was much too late to do anything about it.

He had not wanted for this to happen.

Briefly, Jimmy cursed O'Brien's name, littering it with copious expletives, lathering it in built-up hatred that he never suspected he could possess. His slip with her served to show a vulnerability, a _weakness_. He was incompetent of making his own judgments, gullible and weak! As for Thomas...

Thomas was at fault, yes, but to what extent, exactly? For mistaking Jimmy as his sort? It was unnatural- an offense of criminal proportions, but to have his life torn up over it? Perhaps Jimmy was worse than Thomas, in such a respect.

Now, as he gripped the thin clothing rail in his room, Jimmy gritted his teeth and whirled around, facing his reflection in the mirror. A man stared back at him, worn and wearied with the weight of- Jimmy couldn't quite place it- unanswered questions? He reached a finger out, touching the cool glass where his cheek would be. It was the same spot where Thomas's thumbs had attempted to stroke in a frantic gesture of comfort before Jimmy had shoved him away. Discomfited, he bent over his washbowl and ran cold water against his face, suddenly hot from embarrassment.

He lifted his head, vaguely aware of the beads of water that slid beneath his undershirt. A thought had crossed his mind, both absurd and rash. Go see him. Jimmy ripped his hand towel from the bureau, angrily drying his face, hoping to erase the idiotic thought with each vigorous scrub of the cotton. He only succeeded in further convincing himself it was the right thing to do.

_Yes, go see him. Explain that you were manipulated, you never thought it would come this far- there's no need to phone the police or get him fired. _

_But why?_ Jimmy asked himself, pulling on his trousers and then buttoning his vest. _Why do I feel this compulsion for him of all people?_

Rather than continue and supply himself with answers he'd rather not face, Jimmy crept down the hallway. Thomas's door stood before him, an ominous shadow cast along the peeling wood. Jimmy pressed an ear near the handle, hoping to hear Thomas stirring about, or at least snoring to indicate slumber. A minute passed, and only silence ensued save for the nervous thrumming of Jimmy's heart.

With a disappointed sigh, Jimmy paced back and forth. He needed time to think, to concentrate. Yet his fingers itched to occupy themselves with something. Perhaps he would tinker around on the piano- it would certainly help him think and come to a solution for this ghastly nightmare he'd created.

He briefly entertained the notion that this was indeed all just a very horrid dream as he descended the stairs into the servants' hall. _If it were, then I would wake and go back to her Ladyship. France is certainly better than this ordeal,_ he thought wryly.

Jimmy paused by the kitchens, noticing from a paned window an army of dark, looming clouds that had rolled over the night skies. A moment later, rain started to beat down. He stepped closer; surprised to spot a lone figure huddled against the brick masonry wall by the gardens.

Steeling his resolve, Jimmy stepped out into the onslaught of rain.

"Room for one more?" he called, hoping not to startle Thomas.

Despite his best efforts, however, Thomas's shoulders visibly stiffened. He turned, disbelief written across his widened eyes.

"H...hello," he stuttered, his lips trembling into a painfully shy smile.

Jimmy stepped closer, mouth opening, then closing. Awkwardly, he struggled for the right words.

"I owe you an...apology."

Thomas stared at him. Rainwater slid down his cheeks; reminiscent of the tears he had shed prior to Jimmy's arrival- if his eyes weren't rimmed with red, Jimmy would have assumed it was just the weather. He ran a hand through his hair- plastered against his head- attempting to style it back into place. "It's not, ah, necessary."

_Unbelievable,_ Jimmy thought. _He's trying to pass it off as his fault. _

_Contrition_. Thomas deserved contrition, at least-

"O'Brien has a way with pulling emotional strings, so to speak," Thomas said, avoiding eye contact. "I misconstrued your responses, and- I...I'm the sorry one."

Jimmy swallowed heavily and parted his lips, drips of rain sliding to his chin. When he dared to flick his eyes to Thomas's, he found that Thomas was already watching him before breaking his gaze.

"No- don't," Jimmy murmured, surprising both himself and Thomas as he reached out to clutch at Thomas's arm. "I want- I want you to look at me." Tell me why.

When those pale, azure irises slid up to meet Jimmy, something clicked- the proverbial key sliding into place, the last piece of jagged puzzle pressed so neatly against its counterparts- unlocking the answer he had been searching for.

_Why, why he loves me_, Jimmy thought with a deep (glad?) sense of recognition. His world, once before so upside-down, was powerfully restored to him. He knew that it was love, besotted, impossible love, yet no shame plagued his thoughts- nor any sense of it being wasted love. It was the taste of life at the very edge of life- love as few men ever know it- a _rare passion_. Thomas had a desire for Jimmy that does not look for return, but is worth all the pain, worth knowing that happiness to the edge of madness is a possibility. With this sudden realisation, Jimmy had been set ablaze, in the very heart of the furnace of feeling.

"_Oh_," Jimmy said, softly, as he swayed closer to Thomas- Thomas, who looked so melancholy and pitiful with his blue, blue eyes and despondently crestfallen smile. Thomas, who watched over him and thought of Jimmy at night, breathless and overcome with his love, his glorious passionate love that Jimmy so blindly rebelled against. He closed his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping from his lungs as he pushed into the other man, head tilted up; rain-soaked lips pressing into Thomas's, putting forth _every fibre_ of his being into it as the storm whipped about their faces, compressing the skies and Jimmy's heart- beating a wildly savage tune straight out of a foreign novel.

A deafening silence ensued, the surrounding air dry and tinged with crackling static electricity that seemed to course through Jimmy's body and then Thomas's through the unified bridge of their mouths. And then a bright light slashed across Jimmy's closed lids, immediately followed by sonorous thunders that rumbled and rattled against his bones, causing him to pull away from Thomas; away from fantasy.

The vociferous cracks from the heavens softened as Thomas brought his injured hand to lightly touch his own lips in disbelief. "I- I don't understand..."

Jimmy nodded his head as if to agree, and flashes of light briefly illuminated Thomas's bewildered face. Jimmy idly wondered if his expression was equally as nonplussed. He rocked on his heels, an eerie feeling seeping into his chest.

"Isn't it what you wanted?" he asked in a soft voice.

Thomas squinted at him, and Jimmy could practically hear the clicks of the gears and cogs winding in his mind, trying to understand Jimmy.

But then the shy smile was forming again upon Thomas's lips- his beautiful, kissable lips, just as good as any girl's, really- and he gingerly placed a thumb upon Jimmy's cheek (the same spot as before), stroking it.

"You have the strangest ways of showing it, Jimmy Kent."

FIN

**Notes: I didn't originally intend for a happy ending...but I knew that by not doing so would lead into another cliché multi-chaptered Thommy fic. :(**

**In other news, yes, there _will_ be a chapter two of Dresses are a Man's Best Friend and I'm currently writing 5 other fics- I just keep coming up with new ideas for them and jump from one to the other, haha!**


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